


Hand Through the Mirror

by thelongthrash



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Afterlife, Alternate Ending, Arthur Morgan Deserves Happiness, Arthur Morgan Does Not Have Tuberculosis, Arthur Morgan Lives, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Fix-It, Friends to Lovers, Grief/Mourning, Happy Ending, High Honor Arthur Morgan, Hurt Arthur Morgan, In which Arthur gets his happy ending, Protective Arthur Morgan, Second Chances
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:40:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25192534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelongthrash/pseuds/thelongthrash
Summary: Arthur meets a strange man who gives him another chance at a life - one that he never got the opportunity to choose. Basically a fic where Arthur Morgan gets a happy ending because our cowboy deserves it
Relationships: Abigail Roberts Marston/John Marston, Sadie Adler/Arthur Morgan
Comments: 2
Kudos: 43





	Hand Through the Mirror

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all. I wrote this a long time ago with a rough idea of where to take the whole story. That idea is still pretty rough, but I thought I'd post the prologue to see if people would be interested in reading more. Let me know what you think, any feedback is appreciated!

Smoke. He smelled smoke.

The burnt, ashen, thick air. It crawled into his nose and scorched his lungs - he pitched over in a fit of coughing. Blood and snot filled his mouth and he spat until the taste was dulled iron. The effort nearly made him collapse. He was so weak. So tired. The constant exhaustion chained him to a state of delirium.

 _I’m seein’ things,_ he thought. _So goddamned out of it that I can’t tell what’s a dream and what’s not._

But, he was standing. Felt the ragged burn in his chest and knew he was awake. His chest never hurt in his dreams.

_Hallucinatin’, then. Why else is there a fire in pitch blackness?_

And there was. It was where the smoke curled upwards from; drifting, beckoning. There was nothing but the fire. A small campfire that reminded him of nights living rough in the open. There was no wind, but the flames danced. Crooked like a finger at the top. Calling him over. He took a step, and heard a muted splash.

He looked down. Rings rippled outward from the sole of his boot - water as black as everything else. He took another step.

_Am I… walkin’ on water?_

He kept going until the fire was an arm’s length away. He wondered how it was able to burn on top of water. But he was thankful for the warmth that seeped into his cold, bruised skin. He wanted to feel it in his bones. He stretched his hand out to touch the flames… and his hand went right through. There was no burn. No pain. He drew his fingers back, marvelling at the unmelted flesh.

“What the hell…?” His voice echoed through the emptiness.

“Hello, Arthur. Arthur Morgan.”

Arthur whipped around at the voice and came face to face with a man he had somehow not seen in his approach to the fire. Maybe it was because he blended with the shadows. Black hair, black eyes, black suit, black top hat. Indeed, the only light thing about him was his skin, so pale that it was almost ivory. Arthur squinted as he studied the man’s face. He had seen him before, he was sure of it. He dredged his mind for a name and came up with nothing. He must not have ever gotten his name - he would have remembered it. He had a good memory.

“Do…” he had to pause to cough so that his words could squeeze out of his chest. “Do I know you?”

The strange man regarded him for a moment, the barest of smiles gracing his lips. “I hope so. I seem to know you.”


End file.
